


The Sign of Two

by YamiKakyuu



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angry Aziraphale (Good Omens), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Crowley, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:33:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21822991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamiKakyuu/pseuds/YamiKakyuu
Summary: Set 10 years after Armageddon. Canon divergent. Adam's reset didnt go as planned. Aziraphale's book shop still burned. He and Crowley were taken by Heaven and Hell.Crowley spent 8 years in a dark pit of hell alone. Aziraphale doesn't know this and thinks Crowley abandoned him.Hell finally releases Crowley as a demon has done rogue (Moriarty who is disguised as a human criminal). Crowley returns to London hoping to find Aziraphale but sees the burned shop all boarded up instead.What happened to Aziraphale and will Crowley be able to save his friend and stop a dangerous demon as well?
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

"I told you Hell wouldn't forgive. You should consider yourself lucky the Dark Council decided this for you. I would have chosen death by Holy Water."

In the furthest depths of Hell, deep below where the 9th circle ends, in the unfathomable abyss of darkness lies a pit. Only the worst reside here. Thrown out, lost, forgotten. No light dares shine here, it would be swallowed by the crushing cries and screams of those being tortured in the circles far above.

"Youzzz will rot here, demonzz Crowley for your treazzzonous acts of averting the apocalypszze."

Time slows in the pit, snails pace if the snail were dragging a boulder behind it. Days seems like decades; weeks creep slowly by like centuries. Years? Most demons don't last that long. They beg for death, scream for the hounds to rip out their throats, tear apart their wings and bring the hellish suffering to an end.

To survive eight years was remarkable...

****

"What exactly are you suggesting Lord Beelzebub? He murdered a demon, a fellow Duke of Hell!"

"Shut it, Hazztur."

"You-you cannot agree to this, I..I will not..."

"Shut it!"

A flick of their hand, Hastur is gone.

Sprawled out in their chair, the Prince of Hell stares forward piercing the spot where the traitor had stood trial.

Demon Crowley you are hereby banished to the Darvaza Gas Pit. You will not return.

Sitting up, they lace their fingers together resting their chin as the endless flies circle around.

"Seemzz we'll be seeing you again..."

****

The hum of the blinking fluorescent lights above, a sound he'd always hated, rang through his ears like a Beetoven symphony. After hearing terrible screams of terror, Hell's shitty lighting was a welcome change. Crowley stood, shackles still gouging fresh cuts into his raw wrists new blood drying over old. Snake eyes merely slits for even if the hum was pleasant the dim light brought sharp stabs of pain. Not seeing light for nearly a decade will do that.

The lower demon, who had been burdened with retrieving him, face was etched in terror so Crowley wasn't surprised when he'd not gotten any answers much less a reply that wasn't the sound of teeth grinding in fear.

Sighing, he leaned his weary head back against the wall which stung, millions of tiny needles sticking out but Crowley didn't care, to him it felt like a down comforter. Why the Heaven would anyone in Hell want him? Before he could continue any thought, the loud clang of a steel door screaming open alerted him he was no longer alone.

"Demon Crowley." Beelzebub smirked giving their former subordinates the once over. 

"Lord Beelzebub, what an honor." Crowley spat the name however his ragged voice no longer had the smooth edge from years ago. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"You might want to reconzzzider your attitude." Beelzebub sat on their throne, Dagon and Hastur took their positions. 

"Sorry." Crowley shrugged. "Still in shackles made me forget my manners." He held up his dirty blood stained hands. 

Beelzebub looked bored, "We've a job for you. One you cannot turn down."

Crowley stood frozen for a moment. He was not one to trust another demon especially the Prince of Hell. However, the thought of not returning to the pit was enough for surprise to twitch in his eyes.

This was not lost on Beelzebub who scoffed then leaned forward. "Demon Crowley, I willz explain your assignment, you will accept it and..." Their dark eyes flickered with hate. "If you fail, we will eliminate you."

Crowley stood his ground as Hastur's laugh cackled through the corridors.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally gets to leave Hell but what will be find now that 8 years have passed. And what about Aziraphale?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gawd I am so sorry this chap took forever, I lost my writing emoji for a while but it's kinda back now. So this part isn't horribly long but hoping to add more soon. Thanks for sticking with me! 
> 
> Also this is not beta'd in the slightest so apologies for any mistakes, I will go back and fix them later.

Three days later, Crowley stood outside the blank white walled office building which concealed Heaven and Hell from the general public. Lord Beelzebub assignment barely registering in his subconscious.

_"You are to find the traitorous demon known above as Moriarty."_

Crowley inwardly wondered why Hell hadn't just capture this demon like they had with him but decided against questioning it. For the first time in 8 excoriating years, he was finally leaving Hell.

The ride up the elevator brought back memories of his last time on Earth. He and Aziraphale facing down Armageddon together. _The Ineffable Plan._ Even if they had managed to save humanity, the cost weighed on him. Hell did not wait for vengeance, stealing Crowley during the night after the bus ride back when he and the angel debated on how to continue.

Aziraphale had left Mayfair, with the plan on meeting up at the third alternative rendezvous point in the morning. Crowley never made it.

_"My dear, we'll figure out something together. I know we will."_

Those words spoken softly by Aziraphale as he had left were the last thing on Earth Crowley had heard. They had kept him going through his long dark days in Hell, through the torture and pain, knowing one day he would see Aziraphale again.

Crowley walked, not realizing his steps led him directly into Soho. The once busy streets surrounding the bookshop were strangely empty which surprised the demon. Soho always a small mecha of activity. Wind whipped down the alley way as he turned the corner to face Aziraphale's home.

What stood in front of Crowley stung his heart harder than any cracks of a whip had.

Aziraphale's bookshop, his home and really Crowley's second home, the only place he'd felt safe sat fire ravaged and boarded up.

In disbelief, Crowley wondered for a minute if this was some kind of mirage miracle, Aziraphale purposely hiding the shop. On closer inspection no heavenly presence was felt, only the once vibrant aura of an angel surrounded by the books he so loved. Crowley's bruised hand traced along the chipping wood of the pillars that beckoned shoppers inside. The crimson paint long faded, the gold lettering which once read A. Z. FELL & COMPANY scratched and burned away after so many neglected years.

A lump rose in Crowley's throat while peering through a mostly splintered board nailed over the broken window. Singed pages of destroyed books lay scattered around fully charred relics of Aziraphale mass collection. The gramophone rested a few feet from where it sat, shattered into several large pieces. Crowley could hear a memoir records playing while the two would drink and laugh long into the night. 

Pulling back, Crowley leaned his head against the cold outside wall, his long hair falling beside his face. "I'm so sorry Aziraphale. I failed you." His voice barely a whisper echoed in the quiet streets of Soho. Hiking up the collar of his black jacket, Crowley took one more look at the facade before pulling out a pair of glasses and heading back down the street.

**Author's Note:**

> My take on Jim Moriarty will be the version in BBC Sherlock. I haven't decided if Sherlock and John will cameo as I've never written them before. If they do it'll be later.
> 
> I decided on this after watching A Scandal in Belgravia again and Moriarty, when he calls off the snipers, pulls up when he snaps his fingers and I immediately thought, he's a demon.
> 
> Not sure how long it'll be either.


End file.
